Wicked Bloom
by Countess of Abe
Summary: A local artist has asked Hermione Granger to pose for him. There is absolutely no chance she'll agree. After all, the artist is none other than her former childhood bully, Draco Malfoy.
1. Hanging Like a Fruit

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter related characters, places and themes belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury and Scholastic.

Incredible beta for this story: MrBenzedrine

Updates, pictures, snippets, author notes will be posted on my tumblr and facebook page. Links in my profile.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Hanging Like a Fruit**

He would never agree. His proposition had overwhelmed her, and yet, she knew that what she wanted in return would throw him off balance. It was an unattainable goal, but that certainly had never stopped Hermione before. "I want you to teach me."

"Teach you what, exactly?"

"Teach me to be…" she paused and looked away from his steady gaze. "Teach me to be what you say I am."

"Just spit it out, Granger," he snapped. "You know exactly what I want from you, so tell me exactly what you want from me."

She forced herself to meet his stare. "Teach me to be desirable."

His lips twitched in cunning triumph. "Deal."

* * *

 ** _3 weeks earlier…_**

Hermione Granger liked her morning tea very hot, very strong, and with no extra frills like sugar or cream. There truly was nothing better to help her start her day than an aromatic brew freshly poured into her favorite red mug. It helped that she began every day the same way since starting a satisfying career as a potioneer at Materia Medica four years prior.

It wasn't easy being so meticulous, but Hermione reveled in an orderly environment. Organization, timeliness, abiding by the rules and laws that governed her life were all things she strived to accomplish. She was _the_ Hermione Granger, after all, top of her class at both Hogwarts and the graduate potioneer program. Not many young witches and wizards kept up such a strict and logical lifestyle at the age of twenty-four, but, then again, Hermione had never been a typical witch.

It never bothered her to follow the same routine every morning: wake up, bathe, groom, dress, tea and toast while reading The Daily Prophet, then out the door by 7:50 AM in order to apparate to work by 8:00 AM. After such a tumultuous childhood and adolescence where nothing ever seemed to go according to plan, Hermione took immense pleasure in the organized and predictable lifestyle that now embodied her young adulthood.

Her life was finally calm and predictable. The workweek was nearly over. Close to a discovery on a project she had been working on for the past few months, she looked forward to having a great weekend with her dearest friends. As long as things continued to go as planned, life would always be pleasant.

Hermione released a satisfied sigh as she reached the sleek laboratory that had lived a former life as an abandoned potions warehouse. She entered the lobby of the building, balancing several vials and books between her arms. The smell of potion ingredients and chemical cleaning products hung in the air as she walked past the security desk and down the hallway towards her office. Charlotte, the security witch, smiled at her. "Mr. Wincher would like to see you in his office," she said. "He said that he'd like to see you the moment you arrive."

Hermione took a calming breath and readjusted the load in her arms. She thanked Charlotte for the message, hurried to her office, and dropped the books onto the chair directly behind her desk. Carefully, she placed the vials on top of the large desk currently covered with multiple rolls of parchment, quills, ink, more vials, more books, and a sleeping, shorthaired, black and gray tabby cat.

"Scoot over, Nyx, you lazy bug," said Hermione. She smiled lovingly at his round green eyes as they opened to glare at her. "You sleep much more than you help, you know."

Nyx meowed sullenly at the gentle rebuke. "Oh yes, sweetheart, it's time to start being a productive kitty instead of a paperweight. Hurry along now and catch those mice that love to creep around this old building. Off with you, now." She watched the cat slowly come to his feet, blink slowly at her, and stretch before hopping off the desk and sauntering out the open door. She envied the cat at that moment, knowing she had to face Eli Wincher and whatever news he had for her. Your boss asking to see you was never a good sign.

She dusted off her hands, grabbed her lab robe, and quickly checked her face in the mirror by her office door. A nervous face looked back at her, surrounded by more brown hair than a girl could handle. She frowned and hoped the small redness on her cheek was not the beginning of a spot. It wouldn't do at all to show up in front of Eli looking like a pubescent young lady with no sense of how to keep her hair under control. He was, after all, the most handsome man in the entire lab and, possibly, the entire universe.

Hermione had developed a miserable crush on the man after being hired by him following her completion of the graduate potioneer program. For four years, she admired him from afar. Very far. She had most likely spoken to him only 10 times since meeting him, but every time was a precious memory. With more than 400 employees at Materia Medica, it was easy to become lost in the crowd.

Hermione took another deep breath and left her office, heading in a beeline towards Eli's. She smiled at his assistant once she passed the double doors that led to his suite, and he ushered her into Eli's office immediately. Hermione took a long moment to fill her gaze of her boss. Eli Wincher truly was the absolute perfect man.

"Hermione, just the woman I've been looking for," said Eli, flashing that brilliant smile at her as he stood up and offered her his hand. "Thank you for coming in this morning, please take a seat."

Hoping Eli couldn't hear her heart beating out of her chest, she took one of the proffered seats and folded her hands in her lap, unsure of what to do with them. She watched him walk around the desk back to his own chair and internally sighed at the way his slacks fit so snugly.

"You must be wondering why I've asked you in here today," he began. His eyes were the darkest brown, surrounded by long lashes, and they nearly made her swoon as they focused on her. "I want to begin by congratulating you on your most recent success. The formulaic changes you made to the _respibene_ potion to treat acute, floo powder-induced pulmonary inflammation were nothing short of brilliant."

Hermione's heart nearly exploded in a combination of pride and relief. Pride, because he was praising her, and relief, because she wasn't in trouble. "Thank you, sir," she responded. "My team is very efficient, and I'm very proud of all the hard work everyone puts in."

"I respect your modesty, Hermione, but I know _you_ have much to do with the successes of your projects. You are a born leader and one of the sharpest potioneers we have ever hired."

When she died, Hermione hoped a heaven existed and that Eli Wincher would be there saying all of those words over and over again as he fed her grapes and wine. "Thank you so much, sir. I love this job more than I can say."

He smiled at that, his straight and dazzling teeth flashing against his dark skin. "I'm very glad to hear that. I have called you in here not just to exalt your performance, but to offer you an opportunity I hope you'll accept."

She hoped it was an opportunity to become his wife.

"In about three months' time, the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers will be hosting the International Healing Potions Conference in Sao Paulo, and we have been asked to submit a presentation on our contributions to the field. I couldn't think of a better witch or wizard to represent our company than you. I do hope you'll accept."

The International Healing Potions Conference was the biggest event for the medicinal and therapeutic potions field. All of the elite professionals who participated in the development and business of creating potions for use at St. Mungo's and magical hospitals around the world attended annually to share the latest research and innovations.

Hermione blinked rapidly, wondering if she had lost consciousness. "You want _me_ to put on a presentation for the IHPC? Mr. Wincher…I don't know what to say."

"Please say you'll do it," he responded. "I try to attend the conference every year, but this is the first time we've been asked to speak. Your hard work and passion for what you do make you the perfect person for the task. I know the conference will happen before we know it, so if you decide to do this, please come to me for any help you might need. We've been allotted an hour for our presentation, with some time at the end for the audience to ask questions."

"Thank you so much, sir," Hermione said; her skin felt warm with dread and a smidgen of interest. Could she really do this? "I believe I can do it. I'll try to represent this company to the best of my ability."

He laughed at that. Would she ever tire of hearing that musical sound? "I never worried that you wouldn't, Hermione. I'll send 'round a note by the end of the week with all of the details for the trip and conference. I'm quite looking forward to it."

"You'll be going, too?" Her dread doubled in intensity. Presenting a topic to the international potioneer community _and_ in front of Eli?

"I wouldn't miss it. I've been looking for some new blood to take to conference instead of the same group of executives, and I know you'll enjoy it."

They exchanged a few more words and, shortly thereafter, Hermione closed his office door, nearly breaking into a run back to her office. The minute she reached her office, she slammed the door behind her and leaned against it. A trip to Brazil with her ridiculously handsome boss? This was the opportunity of a lifetime; she would have to spend a weekend with him while trying not to overwhelm him with her social ineptness. She never knew what to say around him. Her tongue refused to say witty and clever things in his presence. She wanted nothing more than to impress him and for him to see her as more than one of his employees.

This trip would surely be a mortifying nightmare, and it certainly did not fit well into her carefully planned life. Bugger.

Hermione found solace at her desk just a few moments later. She gathered a scroll and quill to begin listing out the chemical properties of the vials she brought in that morning. Hopefully, the vials would contain just what she needed to make a breakthrough in her latest experiment.

Her current project involved altering a popular potion used to treat Dragon Pox. The current potion's major flaw was its unfortunate side effect of leaving behind disfiguring scars. After reading one patient's testimonial of attempting to remove the scars left by the potion with a near-fatal mix of Essence of Dittany and Tramble berries, Hermione decided that she could not continue to let witches and wizards risk their lives because of an unsightly side effect.

Half an hour passed in silence as she lost herself in her work, her mind clearing of any intruding thoughts. Unfortunately, when one worked in a lab, interruptions were part and parcel.

"Hermione! HERMIONE!" a husky female voice shouted right outside the door before a pretty face appeared in the doorway.

"Astoria, what on earth?" Hermione quickly stood up from behind the desk.

"It's happened. We figured it out!" Astoria Greengrass, the loveliest, sweetest colleague Hermione could have asked for, panted slightly as she tried to explain.

"Are you wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday?" Hermione squinted as she took in Astoria's wrinkled blouse and lab robe. "Did you _sleep_ in the lab?"

Astoria waved away Hermione's concern. "No, no, I didn't sleep in the lab. I didn't go home last night, also, I didn't sleep last night. How could I sleep when I was so close to solving this stupid equation? Thanks to your brilliant suggestion before you left, I finally determined that it wasn't the weight of the dandelion root that was causing the negative reactions with my _appolitis_ potion, but the age of the root!"

"I'm glad I could help," Hermione finally said. "It was nothing, really. I had faced a similar dilemma with that potion for witch itch. Now, it looks like you need to get home and get some rest. You look like death."

Astoria collapsed into Hermione's vacated chair and propped her feet up onto the desk. "I don't know if I could manage to fall asleep with all of this adrenaline pumping through my veins. I've been working on this potion since the first week I started here, and it's finally ready for the clinical trials."

"You're an amazing witch, Astoria, I knew you would figure it out eventually," said Hermione. She adjusted the books on her desk, grinning with pride at her friend's accomplishment. "What will be your next step?"

"I have no idea, to be quite honest. I've been so focused on perfecting the _apollitis_ potion that I never even considered what to work on afterwards," said Astoria.

"You could help me with the _serpantir_ serum," she said, referring to the potion used to treat Dragon Pox.

Astoria's gaze flitted away, and her smile disappeared. "No, thank you. I, uh, I know that's your pet project, and you have worked so hard on it. I know Healer Estelle has some potions she needs me to start developing."

Hermione nodded in understanding. Both she and Astoria worked in the Research and Development side of the company, but Hermione's specialty focused on enhancing potions already in existence for ever-evolving diseases, while Astoria's specialty focused on developing new potions. They collaborated at times on various assignments and relied on each other when they reached the end of their intellectual tethers. Hermione began working at Materia Medica two years prior to Astoria, but they had found many things in common over the past two years, and a friendship quickly blossomed between them.

Hermione had never met anyone, until Astoria, who held the same rabid thirst for knowledge, and so she tended to blissfully ignore the fact that Astoria would be marrying Draco Malfoy in a year's time.

She had not laid eyes on Malfoy since the Battle of Hogwarts, when he and his family had slunk away to lick their wounds and do whatever losers of a war did. If she never had to see him again, it would be no loss. She still did not fully understand how Astoria had become his fiancée. True, she came from an illustrious pureblood family, but Astoria had been sorted into Ravenclaw, holding a much more enlightened view on social issues than that vile toad.

Astoria once mentioned that she and Draco had an understanding spanning many years, and it suited them both to marry. Apparently, Astoria did not know Hermione well enough if she thought _that_ insufficient explanation would quench Hermione's curiosity. Who would willingly marry Draco Malfoy?

"I have some news, too," said Hermione. "Big news, actually."

"What? Finally told Wincher how madly in love with him you are?" Astoria burst out laughing when Hermione scowled at her.

"I am _not_ in love him, thank you. I fancy him a bit, is all," she replied.

Astoria rolled her eyes in reply.

"He has, actually, asked me to present a topic at the IHPC in July. We'll be going to Brazil together, and I am super nervous," she said.

"Hermione, you clever girl!" Astoria squealed and jumped out of the seat to wrap her arms around the shorter witch. "I'm so proud of you! When did this happen? What are you going to wear? What will your topic be? Will you finally let me take you to my hairdresser in Camden?"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the hysterics as she hugged Astoria back. "It happened this morning. I don't know. I don't know. And, no, my hair is hopeless."

Astoria pulled back and sighed. "I'm so excited for you. This will be the trip of a lifetime, and maybe, just maybe, Wincher will confess that he has a deep, dark desire for you."

"Yes, and maybe, just maybe, your fiancé will confess his deep, dark desire for a Weasley," said Hermione, knowing her friend would not take offense.

Laughing, Astoria nudged her shoulder. "You never know. That Ron is quite a handsome fella. Draco could, one day, see him and may very well be overcome with lust for him."

They both burst into laughter at the thought.

* * *

Later that evening, Hermione unlocked the door to her flat in Knightsbridge and ushered Astoria and Ginny inside. Ginny had met up with them at the lab, and they Apparated together to Hermione's flat to celebrate the end of the work-week. Ginny had initially met Astoria through Hermione, and they took a great liking to each other. Harry and Ron would forever be Hermione's greatest friends, but it was nice to have some female companionship as a young woman.

The women hung up their coats in the closet by the front door, and Hermione watched Ginny head into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine and three glasses before returning to the living room. "Alright, ladies, I have all night with you. Harry went to a Cannons game with Ron, and I would love to hear about your exciting lives."

"Exciting?" Astoria and Hermione looked at each before laughing outright. "The most exciting thing that has happened to me in the past year was finding out a new sushi place was opening up under my flat," said Astoria.

Hermione accepted the glass of rosé from Ginny and stretched out her legs in front of her. "Now that Ginny's an old, married lady, she thinks we lead scandalous lives."

Ginny smiled. "You're living the single life, Hermione. Now, don't get me wrong, I love Harry more than is probably healthy, but being single was so fun! You have the whole world in front of you and no one to stop you."

"I could have a fun, single life if only I wasn't so good at self-sabotage," Hermione mused. "I see an attractive man, and boom! My mouth becomes a separate being and says things that I don't even think can be considered English."

Ginny and Astoria tried their hardest not to laugh. "Oh, you really can't be that bad," said Ginny.

"I don't know about that," Astoria said with mirth in her eyes. "Our boss once passed by us in the hallway and said, 'Cheers, ladies, hope all is well,' and Hermione's voice cracked as she responded with: 'Nothing's been better than well, thanks.'"

Hermione buried her face in her hands as she recalled that humiliating episode. "What does that even mean? Why does my brain hate me!"

"He probably doesn't remember it," Astoria reassured her, rubbing her shoulder. "He just kept on walking and didn't squint in confusion at all." She looked at Ginny and nodded her head silently to affirm that he had, indeed, squinted in confusion.

"You just need practice, Hermione," Ginny said. "Your last relationship was with my brother, and we all know he's as romantic as a hemorrhoid."

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "Ron was the best boyfriend, I'll have you know. We just realized we were better suited as friends. The spark wasn't there for us. I realized later on that it was me."

"No, that's not true!" Astoria said. "There's nothing wrong with you."

Hermione shrugged and took a sip of her wine. "I just couldn't manage to fall in love with him. I love him so much, but I never could just let go and be...I don't know, _passionate_ with him. I don't think I'm capable of it…with anyone."

"I know Ron loved you and still loves you, Hermione," Ginny assured her. "It's like you said, you two are just better friends than lovers. Also, I hate you so much for making me refer to my brother as a lover in any capacity."

"I enjoy being single," Hermione confessed with a laugh. "There's nothing inherently wrong with it, but I do miss having someone to come home to and just spend time with. I can't picture myself dating again. My last date was with Ron, and we just went to a Quidditch shop so he could buy a new broom."

"Romantic as a hemorrhoid," Ginny repeated. "Astoria and I will help you get back out there. At least you'll have the pleasure of dating…unlike some people." She gave Astoria a meaningful look. Ginny and Hermione had been trying to surreptitiously find out more about their mysterious relationship. Unfortunately for them, Astoria never did talk much about Draco or their relationship.

Astoria smiled and took a sip of her drink. "I don't have to worry about all the annoyances of dating. 'Did he call? Does he like me? Have we defined the relationship?' I have a very fine gentleman waiting to marry me with no crazy expectations. It's quite ideal to me."

"Yes, but _Draco Malfoy_?" Ginny asked. "Now, don't take offense, and I'm not exaggerating, but he's the worst human being on the planet"

"You two don't know him like I do," Astoria replied, the wine loosening her tongue. "He has his flaws, of course, but he has always been a true friend to me, and I will always love him for that."

"It's just so surreal that you'll be marrying him, Astoria, when you're so wonderful, and he was just so horrid to us," said Hermione. "I don't know what to make of it all. How can you go along with an arranged marriage, and with _him_?"

"The last time you saw him was six years ago," Astoria pointed out. "I've known him all my life, so trust me when I say he has changed. Honestly. We don't have a grand romance, but neither of us is looking for one. Our families approve of the match, we get along, and we respect each other's independence. Pureblood marriages aren't like muggle ones. We marry to carry on the family line and to establish stronger connections between the pureblood families. Draco and I both understand this, and, frankly, we don't really mind."

Hermione's head spun with this new information. "You're going to marry him and give up your chances at love? Forever?"

Astoria laughed lightly. "Love can grow with time. I already love Draco very much as a friend, and he's handsome enough, so who says romantic love won't come later?"

 _Draco… handsome?_ "You surprise me, Astoria. Your thoughts on marriage are very different from what I was raised to believe, but you're a smart woman, and I'd be a piss-poor friend to judge you."

"You're a better person than I, Hermione; I'm pureblood, and I still think this is mad," Ginny said.

"Not all of us can marry the most famous wizard in recent history," Astoria teased. "Some of us have to settle for infamous artists."

"Wait… Malfoy is an _artist_?" asked Hermione, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"Oh yes," Astoria responded. She put her wineglass down and hugged a throw pillow to her chest. "He's actually quite talented. Spent a few years away in Belgium studying at an art school. His parents were furious."

"How has it taken us this long in our friendship for this very interesting piece of information to come out?" Ginny asked. "We obviously haven't been asking the right questions."

Astoria laughed. "I know how you all feel about him, so I try not to mention him too much. I assumed once I'm married, I'd force you all to become the best of friends so I won't have to choose."

"The day I become the best of friends with Malfoy is the day I dance naked on the street," said Hermione.

Astoria just smiled. "I'll try and remember that."


	2. Itching to Get on with It

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter related characters, places and themes belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury and Scholastic.

Incredible beta for this story: MrBenzedrine

Updates, pictures, snippets, author notes will be posted on my tumblr and facebook page. Links in my profile.

* * *

Chapter 2: Itching to Get on with It

Draco Malfoy rolled over in bed and dragged the sheet over his head to block out the daylight streaming in through the window. There were many things he didn't like, but mornings were at the very top of the list. He hadn't always hated mornings. At Hogwarts, he'd enjoyed getting up early to assert his dominance in the Slytherin common room and beyond. In art school, he'd gotten into the habit of using the early morning sun as the perfect light source for his paintings.

Lately, he had a duty so daunting he cursed at every sunrise for its reminder of a new day. There were less than two weeks to submit his proposal to Guillaume, the owner of the most esteemed magical art gallery in Brussels. He'd been approached by a former art school professor to come up with an exhibit that would be on display at the Musée d'Art Mystique for the spring season. If Draco found his muse in the next two weeks, he would _finally_ be taken seriously as an artist. His entire career and reputation depended on whether he could come up with something to exhibit. He would be given a monetary sum of 5,000 galleons that he desperately needed if he could complete at least 10 paintings in time for the opening.

So far, he had nothing.

Draco groaned and burrowed further into the sheets. If only blocking out the light could block out reality as well.

* * *

Draco left his bed just before noon and made his way to the restroom. It was tight quarters with two bedrooms and one bathroom to share between himself and his housemate. Who would have thought the wealthy and proud Draco Malfoy would be sharing a house older than magic itself with another wizard?

He didn't think he'd ever find himself in this position, but something had changed inside of him that day, many years ago, when he walked away from the wreckage of the Second Wizarding War. The ugliness inside suffocated him; he'd been unable to keep it inside. Art was the tiny light that kept him from completely succumbing to Lord Voldemort's influence. It transformed his tangled, ugly thoughts into something concrete.

When he approached his parents about attending _Incantare_ , the magical art school in Florence, he'd known they would not approve. A Malfoy could work for the Ministry (where they would work hard to get as much power as possible), or they could help run the vast Malfoy estate and funds. Options were limited for the Malfoy heir.

Draco had approached his parents just a few short weeks following the end of the War. They were sitting on the veranda overlooking the gardens, taking their tea at their usual time.

" _What's this?" Lucius drawled, setting his tea, laced with brandy, back onto the glass table. "Did you say_ 'art' _?"_

 _Draco clenched his hands behind his back to hide his nervousness. "Yes, sir. I would like to try my hand at it. I'd like to see if I have what it takes, and—"_

 _Lucius scoffed. "Absolutely not._ _A Malfoy working with his hands for a living, like some sort of commoner?_ _" He then glanced over at Narcissa. She'd remained silent throughout the conversation. "Tell him that no self-respecting Pureblood pursues anything so menial as art."_

 _Narcissa took a moment to smooth out the skirts of her robe and, finally, looked up at her son. "You could pursue a respectable position at the Ministry, Draco. Wouldn't you like to be Minister of Magic someday?"_

" _I can't think of anything I'd hate more. You know that I want nothing to do with politics or the Ministry. I want to stay out of the public eye after the humiliation of the war," he replied._

 _Lucius stiffened. "We are still Malfoys, damn it, and we have a position to uphold. Blood may mean nothing these days in this deteriorating world of ours, but money and power will always mean something."_

Looking into the cracked mirror of his shared bathroom, it appeared money and power had done Draco little good. The last of his galleons were sitting in Gringotts waiting to be spent on the rent and groceries. Although, with his lack of steady income, groceries would just need to be negotiable that month. His money had dwindled throughout his years in art school since his parents had cut him off without a knut to his name. He apprenticed with a portrait artist while in school, but the pay was very little, and Italy just was not home. He applied to jobs upon returning to England, but jobs for artists were slim. He tried to sell his paintings through an art gallery in Hogsmeade, but they turned up their noses at selling a Malfoy's work. The proprietors of the art gallery didn't want to be associated with a family who'd fought on the wrong side in the war.

He wasn't giving up, though. He would find some way to sell his talent, even if he had to draw caricatures on the street for sickles. The defeat of the dark side during the war and attending art school had humbled him in a way he hadn't thought possible. He was still arrogant, of course; he was a Malfoy after all, but he wasn't above asking for help, and he wasn't above working hard to be successful. His upcoming marriage to Astoria would help in his plan to be a success.

He never thought he'd marry her. They'd grown up together, and she was as familiar to him as his own left hand. He hadn't gotten along with Daphne as much, but she'd been a quirky girl who'd seemed obsessed with fashion, beauty, and boys. Astoria couldn't have been more different than her older sister.

His parents contacted him after three years of silence, shortly following his return from Italy, and proposed the idea that if he married the younger Greengrass sister (Daphne had been dating someone at the time), they would welcome him back to the family, and he would once again be in possession of his large inheritance. He'd jumped at the idea. It wasn't the near-poverty that made him agree - he wanted to be a part of his family again. He had worshipped his father, and to lose his respect after the war, and after being disowned, had effectively destroyed him. His mother was a light in his life he hadn't realized existed until after he'd been alone in Italy with no one to turn to with his problems. His mother appeared cold to others, but he saw a side of her not everyone saw.

If the only way back into their good graces was to marry a Pureblood girl they handpicked, then he couldn't have chosen better himself. Astoria had seen him at his worst, and he'd seen the same of her. They had very little secrets from each other, and he would do anything for her. She understood the pressures of being raised as a Pureblood on the wrong side of a war. He wasn't in love with Astoria, but he loved her, and that was enough for him. Their marriage wouldn't be passionate - it wouldn't be emotional, but it would be comfortable, and it would gain him his family back. Astoria understood the intricacies of this arrangement, and she had explained to him that it would suit her just fine.

His first order of business that day was to meet her for lunch. She'd sent an owl the previous night requesting to meet him. They hadn't seen much of each other the past few weeks. Her work kept her busy, and he admired her resilience and determination when it came to her career. He was looking forward to seeing her since she was a bright spot in his presently dismal life.

At noon, Draco flooed to Astoria's flat in London, emerging into her living room to the sight of her lying on the couch with a book. She looked up at him and marked her place with her finger, standing to greet him.

"Hello, love, you're late," she said, kissing his cheek and wrapping her arms around him in a hug. "I told you 11:30."

"Did you? I swear your note said noon," he replied, squeezing her for a moment before letting go. "Who eats lunch at 11:30?"

She sat on the couch, curling her legs underneath her. "I've been up since dawn, so I'm absolutely starving. I almost left without you."

"And I would care, why?" he teased.

She stuck her tongue out at him and smacked him lightly with her book. "I have so much to tell you, but if we don't leave now, I'm going to eat your face; I'm _that_ hungry."

"Bloodthirsty," he commented. "You could have had a snack, you know. Don't you have fruit or something lying about?"

"I haven't been to the store in about two months," she said. "I've sustained myself on takeaway and whatever food is served at work. I've basically been living in the lab. Now, if we don't get up and go eat, I'll call the wedding off, and you'll have to marry my sister."

Draco shuddered. "Fine! Let's go; grab your coat, it's cold out. Just don't ever threaten me with that again. You know I can only take so much of your sister explaining the difference between an anorak and a parka before I actively wish for the sweet silence of death."

Astoria laughed at that and jumped off the couch to grab her coat. They left her flat and walked the few blocks to a new pan-Asian restaurant in her neighborhood. Along the way, she caught him up on her latest breakthrough at the lab. Her face always seemed to effuse a brightness when she spoke about her work.

She was one of the smartest people he knew, and he was proud to know her. There were days where he hoped some of her virtue would rub off on him. If he married her, he'd have a constant source of goodness that he could lean on when the darkness inside him threatened to overwhelm him.

"… and it's just been one thing after another, you know?" she said. He turned his attention back to her words and nodded. "So, now that the potion is going into clinical trials, I have to meet up with Healer Estelle and her staff at St. Mungo's to see what they'd like for us to work on next."

Draco pulled out the seat at their table for her to sit. "How often do you meet with the Healers?"

"Oh, about every two to three months, I'd say. Sometimes more or less depending on how quickly we can develop a potion and get it to trials."

They were handed their menus, read through them, and ordered their meals. When the waitress left their table, Astoria started the conversation again. "So, how's Deepak doing? I haven't seen him in a while."

Deepak Reddy was Draco's housemate. "He's fine, I guess. I don't see him much now that he spends all his time at his new boyfriend's house. He left a sculpture half-finished in the living room, so I'm sure he'll be back around soon."

"New boyfriend? Did he dump Jonah, then?"

"Yeah, Jonah was a bit of an arsehole, so good riddance. This new bloke is loads better and doesn't sing while he showers at six in the morning," he said. He took a sip of water. "How about your work friend you were telling me about, the one in love with your boss?"

Astoria cleared her throat. "Oh yeah, fine, I guess. She's going on a trip with him in a few months. There's this potioneer conference in South America, and she'll be giving a talk. I'm going to try to help her seduce him."

"Is that so? You?"

She flicked her straw wrapper at his face with a laugh. "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve, you know."

"You'll have to show me some time," he replied with a half-smile. "It gets quite lonely in that old, dusty house."

"I'm sure it does," she said. "I'll come over tonight if you do me a favor."

"Your favors are never fun," he said. "I'll just use my hand, thanks."

She laughed aloud and kicked him under the table. "This won't be so bad! Eva, one of the girls who works on my team, is throwing a party to celebrate our latest project, and it sounds like it's going to be a blast. Say you'll come? I never invite you to any of my work functions, because I know the reactions you get from some people, but I _really_ want you to come and meet my team. They're all great, and none of them care that you're Draco Malfoy. Most of them aren't even from England, so they haven't even heard of you."

Draco picked up a chopstick and started drawing imaginary pictures into the table. "When is it?"

"Next Saturday at Eva's house."

"Will there be alcohol?"

She gave a toothy smile. "Yes! Does that mean you'll come?"

"Of course, you didn't have to convince me. I'd follow you into Hell, you know."

She reached over and covered his hand with her own. "Yeah, I know."

* * *

Across town, Hermione sat on her bed and picked up the magazine Ginny had given her. The title read: _Wanton Wizards_. On the cover, a very handsome man leaned against a broomstick, his shirt gone for some reason or other. After the girls' night they'd had where Hermione had confessed trouble with being comfortable with intimacy, Ginny had owled her the magazine the next morning. A note was attached that said, "Look through these pages and just enjoy."

Hermione had seen naked men before. She'd seen them occasionally in books, movies, the internet, once or twice in the Gryffindor common room when pranks and festivities went a little too far. She'd never touched a naked man, though. She just hadn't had the urge to see Ron naked or to want to touch his naked body. Not that there was anything wrong with him or his body. He was handsome, and his body was toned from all the Quidditch. She just never had the desire.

She thought of Eli, his beautiful face and a body so tight she could bounce coins off of him. She could picture herself watching him undress, his arms carved with muscle, his belly flat with a dusting of dark, curly hair leading to an area to which she'd never given much thought. Would she want to touch him? Caress his body? Touch him… there?

Hermione stopped her train of thought as her cheeks warmed with the thought of her boss in dishabille. She picked up the magazine and tried to relax. Her body was tense, and she could feel a trickle of sweat roll down from her hairline to her neck. Why did the thought of sex, intimacy, and romance do this to her? Why couldn't she just let go and feel relaxed? It was her. She knew it deep down. _She_ was the problem.

She didn't feel sexy. She didn't feel desirable. No one ever approached her and flirted with her. No one wanted to be with a dowdy, bookish woman who had no control over her hair. She put in an effort to keep her face clean and even put on a bit of lipstick or mascara when attending a meeting or going out with friends. She didn't think she was hideous, but neither did she have the beauty her friends did. Men usually stopped Ginny in public and hit on her before realizing that she was married to a high-ranking Auror - Harry Potter, no less. Astoria, though often quiet and shy around strangers, would get the occasional stranger coming up to her to try their hand at flirting.

With a sigh, she decided it was time to stop feeling sorry for herself. She was going to look through the magazine and not feel incredibly uncomfortable while doing so. She turned the cover and flipped through several ads before she saw another man leaning on a broomstick, this time, no shirt or pants were visible. _His legs are quite nice,_ she thought _. His head's quite large, though. Probably has trouble finding hats that fit. Do they make hats for people with large heads? There might be a spell… No! Focus!_

She turned the page and saw a man reclining on a bed, completely naked, his arms linked above his head. This man's head was reasonably sized. Other parts of him were most definitely _not_ reasonably sized. _Can penises get that big? Where on earth does he put it when he wears pants? Good lord, are those oranges or bollocks?_

A tapping at the window startled her and sent the magazine flying into the air and onto the floor. Hermione calmed her breathing and pressed her hands to her face. She looked towards the window and saw a brown owl hovering outside. Scrambling off the bed, she opened the window and untied the scroll wrapped around its leg. She didn't recognize the owl, but she unfurled the scroll to see what had interrupted her very stressful and unsexy night alone.

 _Hermione, It's me, Eva! I'm having a party next Saturday and wanted to invite your team to celebrate the Artephius Team's recent success. Astoria told you about the_ appolitis _potion, right? I thought we'd never figure that one out! - The party will be at my house in Hogsmeade, and it will start at 8. Let me know if you can make it! I'd love to have you. Kisses! -Eva_

Hermione smiled down at the letter and walked over to her writing table. She grabbed a pen and jotted down her reply:

 _I'd love to. See you at the party! -Hermione_


	3. It's Gonna Be So Easy

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter related characters, places and themes belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury and Scholastic.

Incredible beta for this story: MrBenzedrine

 _If you haven't read chapter 2, go read that first! The website did not send out notifications._

* * *

 **Chapter 3: It's Gonna Be So Easy**

Hermione stared at the blank parchment in front of her and blew out a breath of frustration. She'd arrived at work (on time) and cleared her schedule for the day to focus on starting her presentation for the potions conference. She had only three months to come up with a presentation that would last an hour and that wouldn't bore the attendees to death. She opened a desk drawer and rifled through the papers lined up neatly in folders until she found her notes on the _respibene_ potion. She dipped her quill in the inkwell and began listing out the major topics she intended to cover in her talk.

An hour later, Astoria knocked at her door and smiled widely at her through the little window. Hermione waved her in, setting her quill in its stand. Astoria walked in and closed the door behind her. Stopping in front of the chair across from Hermione's desk, she picked up the fat cat sleeping on it. "Hello, Nyxie-poo," she cooed in a high-pitched voice. "You're so pretty today, aren't you darling boy?" She smothered the top of his head with kisses and squeezed him to her. "You must have caught a lot of mice this morning to be sleeping so early- OW!" She pulled him away from her and held him up in front of her. "You wanker, it's not nice to bite my finger." He meowed sullenly and wiggled his legs to be put down. She knelt and set him gently on the floor. "Ugh, I still love you, you shit."

Hermione laughed and watched the cat saunter over to the bookshelf to climb up to sleep at the very top. "He never bites me, you know. Probably because I don't cuddle him to death."

Astoria smiled and took a seat. "He's just so soft and squishy. I can't help myself."

"You came at a good time; I was coming to a dead-end in this presentation and needed a break. How was your weekend?"

"Oh, it was pretty great. Ran a bunch of errands and spent a massive amount of time lying on my couch and reading. How about yours; do anything interesting?"

Hermione shrugged and leaned back in her chair. "Not really, it was about the same as yours. Ran some errands and went over to the Weasleys for dinner on Sunday night."

"You didn't read anything stimulating, maybe? Something with lots of pictures?"

"Damn it, Ginny, I knew she was going to tell you!" said Hermione with an embarrassed laugh.

Astoria laughed with her. "Of course she told me. We're trying to get you laid, and every little bit helps. Now, how was it? Did it spark any amorous desires deep within your chest?"

"Ew, no. It was definitely _not_ stimulating. In fact, I was very distracted looking through it. Honestly, what kind of man will pose for a picture with his legs behind his ears while not wearing a stitch of clothing? I did not need to see that; I did not want to see that; no one should ever have to look at that."

Astoria doubled over with laughter, clutching the edge of the desk. "Oh, my God, Hermione. That is _too_ much. I've got to admit, I would also definitely not want to look at that image. It sounds terrible."

"It's seared into my brain. I'll be seeing that man's bumhole in my nightmares, I know it."

Tears started to form in Astoria's eyes as she started laughing hysterically. "Please, please, tell me the next time you read one of those magazines, because I'd love to sit with you and hear your critique."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I would never. I could barely look through it on my own in the privacy of my bedroom. I appreciate the help you and Ginny are offering, but it's just too awkward for me to continue down this path. You two are my dear friends, and I just don't know if I'll be able to look you in the eyes if you help me overcome my, uh, sexual inhibitions."

"Oh, poo. Well, we'll be around to help if you change your mind and decide you need us to seduce Eli."

"Duly noted. Now, I'm going to change the topic, and you better not come back to it. Are you going to Eva's thing on Saturday?"

Astoria's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Wait, how did you know about the party?"

"She owled me Saturday and invited me. Why? Don't you want me to go?"

"No, of course I want you to go!" she protested. "It's just that, I, uh, sort of invited Draco to come along." She sighed at Hermione's look of surprise. "I didn't know Eva was going to invite anyone besides our own team. I would've never invited him if I knew you'd be there. I never want to put you through an uncomfortable situation, because I know he was terrible to you, and I just…"

"It's alright, it's alright. Don't worry about it. Don't put yourself out because of me. I've grown up and can handle a few hours with him. I can be very civil if he is, too."

"Oh, Hermione, you're the best! I know he can be civil. Now, I know that I really don't speak about him around you, but I've got to tell you he's changed so much since Hogwarts."

"Yeah?"

"I don't know if you know this, but when he decided to go to art school in Italy, his parents disowned him. He hasn't spoken to them in four years."

Hermione's brows shot up. "Really?"

"Yes, and he's actually humble now, if you'd believe it. Well, I mean, he's as humble as a Malfoy could possibly get. When he moved to Italy, he shared a dormitory with a half-blood, and he still writes to him every so often. Apparently, they both shared the same interests in art and got along quite well. He's also living quite close to poverty, I think. He won't tell me much, but I know his parents cut him off financially, so he's been living off what he'd saved before leaving. He's having a hard time finding a job, too, so I know he has no income coming in, and he's too proud to accept any money from me, so I usually leave a few galleons in some of his pants' pockets whenever I can so that he thinks he's just forgotten them."

This news was stunning. Hermione never would have guessed Draco would be brought so low. A struggling artist? Draco? "Why is he marrying you if he can't afford to start a life with you?"

"Well, that's the thing. If he marries me, his parents will welcome him back into the family, so he basically jumped at the offer. I know he misses them, and he doesn't care much about the money; I think he's quite lonely. Most of his friends abandoned him after the war, and especially after he moved to Italy to pursue art. I invited him to come to Eva's party so he can get out and socialize, you know?"

"This is just so surprising; the opposite of how I thought he turned out."

"You don't know how happy I am that you're willing to be around him for a few hours, because that brings me to something I've been meaning to ask you for a while now." Astoria reached out and grabbed Hermione's hand. "Will you be a bridesmaid for my wedding? I had to ask Daphne to be my maid of honor since she's my sister, and she's designing my wedding dress, so I don't want to piss her off, or I'll end up wearing a potato sack. Now that I know you are willing to tolerate Draco for a few hours, you can definitely be in the wedding."

Hermione waited for Astoria to finish rambling and squeezed her hand. "I would love nothing more than to be one of your bridesmaids. I'm honored."

Astoria jumped up and, with a slight squeal, ran around the desk to grab Hermione into a tight hug. "Oh, I'm so excited! I love you so much and was tortured by the fact that you might not come to the wedding because of the Malfoys."

"I would tolerate an evening with every Death Eater from here to the moon to stand up beside you at your wedding. You're more important than any ill-feeling I have towards the Malfoy family."

"You're going to make me cry if you don't quit it," Astoria replied. "Okay, this is so great, yay! I do have to run, though; I've got to prepare my notes for our meeting at St. Mungo's this afternoon. Meet me in the lobby and we can Apparate together?"

"Sounds like a plan," said Hermione. "I'll see you in a few hours."

* * *

Staring at the blank canvas in front of him, Draco cursed again and ran his paint-stained hand down his face. He picked up his charcoal piece once more, wondering what on earth he could even begin to sketch.

His studio, if one could call it that, was the attic of his house. He'd installed windows and a sun light into the roof to achieve the best possible lighting. Candles were also lit around the room to provide the illumination he would need.

He touched the charcoal to the canvas and began sweeping it down in broad strokes to create the outline of… well, he didn't know what. A vase? A vase filled with flowers?

 _Fuck, might as well paint a bowl filled with fruit. What's wrong with you? Sketch something_ real _._

The sketch began to take shape as a vase, _damn it,_ and he forged through, trying to give it some sort of meaning or depth. After roughly fifteen minutes or so, he stepped back and looked at what he'd drawn.

"Why'd you draw an empty vase?" a voice from behind spoke.

Draco sighed and turned to face his housemate, Deepak. "Because I'm a talentless hack?" he explained.

Deepak laughed and stepped further into the room, his dark hair and eyes gleaming in the sunlight. "You and I both know that's not true. It's a beautiful vase, but it's got no passion behind it."

"Don't you think I know that?" Draco huffed. "I've got to tell Guillame, next week, what I've got planned for the exhibit, and all I have so far is a fucking vase. It isn't even filled with anything, just a vase." He picked up the charcoal piece once more and made quick slashes to the drawing until the vase was now shaped like a penis. "Enough passion for you?"

"Ha-ha, very funny," said Deepak, his mouth betraying his sarcasm with an amused smile. "You never seemed to have many issues before this. You always created beautiful images."

Draco pulled his wand out and erased the sketch from the canvas. "I've lost my muse; it's as simple as that. The pressure is on to create something phenomenal, and of course, as usual, I'll cave under the pressure and have only myself to blame. I'm honestly out of ideas."

Deepak leaned against the sturdy table that housed all of Draco's paints and brushes. "Well, you've got to start at the beginning. You need to create ten pieces for this showing, so would you like to present ten separate pieces that share a common theme, or would you like to have ten paintings that tell a story, or ten pieces that have absolutely nothing to do with each other but that will make the viewers think there's a common thread?"

"I honestly don't know."

Deepak gave him a sympathetic look. "Well, mate, you might think you'll crack under the pressure, but you're the best painter I've seen in years. Who knows? You might find your muse when and where you least expect it."

* * *

Astoria and Hermione arrived at St. Mungo's and discussed their notes as they walked into the building. They signed in and grabbed name badges before heading to the conference room they usually met in. Four of their respective team members were already in the room along with Healer Camellia Estelle and her group of Healers.

"Neville!" Hermione exclaimed, catching sight of her old schoolmate in the group. Astoria watched her friend stride over to where a tall man with a handsome face stood, dressed in Healer's robes and carrying several scrolls of parchment. She had never seen this particular Healer in their meetings before and had never heard Hermione mention his name before. His face was lean and shadowed with stubble, his eyes soft and hazel, his hair dark and styled neatly. She looked away when his eyes met hers while he gave Hermione a brief hug. A moment later, she saw Hermione wave her over to where they stood.

"Astoria, you must meet my friend, Neville." She put an arm around Astoria and dragged her closer. She introduced them, and they exchanged a polite handshake.

Astoria felt a quick jolt of… something. She smiled slightly and murmured, "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he replied, his voice deep and quiet.

"Astoria, I know you were interested in incorporating more magical plants in medicinal potions, and Neville here is a big Herbology buff," Hermione explained.

 _Buff, indeed. Quite,_ _quite buff._

"That's so interesting, I look forward to sharing some ideas during the meeting," she said, hoping her voice wasn't as squeaky as she imagined. What was wrong with her? She'd seen plenty of handsome men, encountered them all the time. Why was _this_ handsome man, dressed in distinguished Healer robes, so different from the rest? She was engaged to Draco, for heaven's sake!

"I haven't seen you in so long - probably since Harry's party last year. Where have you been hiding?" Hermione asked.

"I just finished a fellowship in Dublin, so I was there for about a year and didn't get to come home often. I've missed the group. How is everyone doing?"

Hermione began telling him all about their mutual friends, and Astoria took the chance to study him up close. He really was quite handsome. His mouth was quick to smile, and she was a sucker for facial hair on a man. Draco kept a constant blond stubble on his face, most likely because he couldn't afford razors and shaving soap and not out of any need to please her. When Neville looked at Hermione, she could see a warmness in his gaze, a kindness not found in many people.

"Everyone, let's go ahead and get started," Healer Estelle called out from the head of the room. "If you could take your seats, we'll get right into it." She pulled out her wand when everyone sat down and dimmed the lights in the room. The wand was then turned toward a blank wall on the opposite side of the room and a screen appeared, listing out the agenda for the meeting. "Before we begin, I'd like everyone to go around the table and introduce themselves as we have a few new faces in the room." She pointed to the Healer on her right side.

Astoria sat through the introductions, taking note to remember the names of the two new Healers sitting next to Healer Estelle. It slightly disconcerted her to see that Neville had chosen the seat directly across from hers. They looked at each for a brief moment before he smiled shyly and looked away. His turn was up next.

"Hullo, everyone. My name is Neville Longbottom, and I have just finished a fellowship under Healer O'Casey in the Department of Neurohealing. I spent a year with him at the Draípidéal Magical Hospital. I look forward to working with this group, as I've written several dissertations on the use of plants in the use of healing potions."

He was so soft-spoken, yet he compelled Astoria with his deep voice and the lines fanning out from his eyes that indicated he smiled and laughed often. In a matter of minutes, it was her turn to introduce herself. "Um, hi, I'm Astoria Greengrass, and I am the team leader for the Artephius Team at _Materia Medica._ Our team is responsible for developing new potions and spells for magical diseases and disorders." She purposely kept her gaze far from the handsome man across from her, or her words would have come out in a jumble.

Hermione spoke beside her, thankfully distracting her from her errant thoughts. "Good afternoon, I'm Hermione Granger, and I am the team leader for the Fulcanelli Team at _Materia_. Our team handles the improvement and enhancement of established potions and spells already in circulation."

The meeting went by slowly, and Astoria forced herself to keep focus on Healer Estelle's presentation on the ongoing clinical trials for the potions recently completed.

"We have begun the clinical trials on the _appolitis_ potion; thank you to Ms. Greengrass and her team for their endless efforts. The first round's results should be available by our next meeting, which I will schedule a month from now. With the _appolitis_ finally through with development, we have a proposal for a project we're excited to start. Healer Longbottom, if you will, can you please share with the group your proposal?" Healer Estelle smiled at Neville.

He cleared his throat, and his eyes met Astoria's again. Maybe if she stopped looking at him, she wouldn't notice him looking at her? Either way, something in her stomach kept clenching when hazel met green.

"I've put forth a hypothesis on the properties of _salvia officinalis_ , most commonly known as 'sage' in the muggle world. This plant tends to harbor carnosic acid and rosmarinic acid, which can be used to slow the progression of injury to the brain. Now, certain tribes of muggles have used it to slow the loss of memory in the elderly population, but if we can harvest the different acids and marry them to the magical plants we have at our disposal, we could possibly find ourselves looking at a cure for the loss of brain matter in the temporal and frontal lobes of patients who have suffered the effects of the _cruciatus_ curse," his voice wobbled for a moment on the last word. "The way the plant is structured, though, would only allow for a possible cure if the victim of the curse is administered the potion within 6 hours of the event occurring. This could be a tremendous breakthrough in neurohealing, and I believe the experts at _Materia_ can make it happen."

"Thank you, Healer Longbottom, I am more excited than I can say about this proposal. This could put English Magic healing and potioneering at the top of the field if the Artephius Team is up for the challenge. What say you, Miss Greengrass? Can we count on your team to help us?"

Astoria blinked several times, her mind spinning with the information Neville had shared. She'd never, in her education or career, thought to utilize _salvia officinalis_ towards neurohealing, despite the fact that she used it in multiple potions. A frisson of excitement burned her gut, and she smiled widely. "On behalf of Team Artephius and _Materia Medica,_ I accept the project put before us and look forward to our collaboration."

Healer Estelle clapped her hands together once. "Perfect! I'll leave the details in your capable hands, and as this was the brainchild of Healer Longbottom, I'll be assigning him as the medical liaison. You can set up a schedule to meet with him to begin development, and I'll make sure it does not conflict with his duties at the hospital. If everyone is in agreement, I believe we can conclude the meeting on a very high note. Thank you all for your participation."

With a swallow that seemed to be thicker than usual, Astoria stood from her chair and smiled at Neville. "Looks like we'll be working together."

"Looks like it. Can you stay a moment so that we can figure out the times I can be available to go over the specifics? It shouldn't take more than a moment."

Astoria glanced over to Hermione's chair, which was empty. Astoria spotted her speaking to Healer Estelle. She turned back to Neville. "That sounds like a plan."

He handed her a piece of parchment with what looked like a grid. "These are my shifts this week at the hospital. I can probably meet Wednesday morning at the lab. Would that work for you?"

One-on-one time with the handsome man? _Uh, don't forget, you're ENGAGED._ "Oh, yes, that works perfectly."


End file.
